


Don't Shoot the Messenger

by firelord65



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: It’s a race between Natasha, Sam and Steve, and Ross’s international team to get to Bucharest first. Once she’s there, Nat needs desperately to get Barnes to trust her before they both end up in custody.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27
Collections: Het Swap Exchange 2020





	Don't Shoot the Messenger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/gifts).



It had been painfully obvious to Natasha that Steve wasn’t going to just let the authorities follow up on Barnes. She had tried, yes, to get him to back down. But once Steve made up his mind there was very little that would change it. Rather than wallow in frustration, Natasha took it upon herself to try and head off what would surely end up a huge mess. 

Getting Hill to lend her a jet off the books wasn’t going to happen. But “borrowing” a private plane from a small, poorly secured airstrip just outside the city of Vienna? That wasn’t so hard. The clock would be against her if she waited for Ross’ people to get their shit together and follow up on the lead that Steve and Sam had. 

As it was, Natasha knew she’d already lost time in driving out from the city center and infiltrating the airstrip. But Sam and Steve couldn’t just teleport, either, so she trusted her gut. The address she’d pulled from Sharon’s mobile was another forty minute drive from where Natasha could land the plane without too much trouble. As she clenched the steering wheel of yet another stolen vehicle in her hands, Natasha hoped that she was making the right decision. 

She struggled through a jaw-cracking yawn and rubbed the tiredness from her eyes with the palm of her hand. At least on the Quinjet she could have engaged Stark’s AI autopilot and gotten some shut eye. 

As she shook her head and sought a suitable spot to dump the car, Natasha started. She’d caught just a glimpse in the corner of her eye, but she could have sworn it was her target. Throwing her head out the window, Natasha cursed the traffic flow and the rush of pedestrians moving through the outdoor market. Which way had he come from? Was she driving away from him?

Someone shouted and Natasha turned back to the road ahead of her just in time to slam on the breaks. The car ahead of her narrowly escaped having its rear bumper taken off, and Natasha exhaled sharply to let her jackhammering heart slow once more. She had to ditch this stupid vehicle and get on foot. 

She moved through another intersection and dove down the first alleyway that the car could fit in. Yanking the key out from the ignition, Natasha stepped back out onto the road. The least she could do was keep it from getting stolen again. With the windows rolled up fully and the key not sitting in the visor, it had half a chance. Maybe. But that wasn’t her priority. 

When she approached the street market, her gut could tell she was now on the back foot. There was no sign of an American expat among the crowd. She had at least moved laterally when it came to tracking down Barnes’ alleged address. No backtracking. Looking down at the clock on her phone, Natasha frowned. Too much lost time. 

She approached the apartment block with one hand tapping on her leg and the other holding her phone open to the GPS. Once she was confident she’d found the right place, Natasha slid the phone away in favor of a tiny set of lockpicks. However the backdoor was unsecured and she found herself immediately in the spiraling stairwell. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she considered briefly taking out her gun. But that would be premature and would certainly set Barnes off on either fight or flight. Neither was the goal. 

While she debated the next best approach, Natasha heard too late the sound of a door creaking behind her. Twisting down and dropping low, she avoided the hand that had reached to clamp over her mouth. Her leg kicked out to ensnare her foe. She collided hard against solid shins. Barnes let out a grunt, not completely invulnerable to the hit. He didn’t go down. 

“Don’t!” Natasha shouted as Barnes tried another grab, this time for her shoulder. She heard servos whirring as the metal hand whiffed past her chest. She had to lunge backwards, once again on a bad foot. “I’m not here to hurt you!” she insisted.

His third swipe managed to get her jacket and allowed him to flip her face-first against the wall. Then he finally responded, growling low as he pressed his arm into her lower back. “Who sent you?” 

Natasha coughed as her face ground into the dusty concrete wall. She managed to twist her head to somewhat look at him, at least with one eye. Her pride stung that she was pinned, but experience told her that she would surely be able to find a way out. Even with that inconveniently strong metal arm pinning her. “No one sent _me._ ” she hissed, “but there’s an international agency who you should be much more concerned about.” And a pair of righteous idiots, but there wasn’t enough time to get into _that_. 

He met her gaze - as best as she could manage - and his mouth was drawn in a deep frown. She could see the wheels turning in his head. At least, she hoped she did. He was at least listening, though. “You’re not safe here anymore, Barnes,” Natasha sighed. He flinched when she spoke his name. 

The motion, small though it was, gave Natasha enough room to shove off from the wall and force Barnes back. He responded immediately, trying to sidestep away. They circled one another in the tight hall. Natasha’s hand went to her back, fingers brushing against the inside lining of her holster. Her gun was in Barnes’ hand and pointed directly at her chest. 

“Now’s really not the right time to be covering up a dead S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Natasha warned. “You’ve got whatever agents the Accords have spurred into action all dead set on bringing down the Vienna U.N. bomber - that’s you, Barnes. At least according to the video footage.”

“Is that who sent you?” He repeated his earlier question, both hands now firmly gripping her pistol. His eyes were darting over her shoulder now. They’d spun such that Natasha was now standing between him and the door. A small mercy, though he undoubtedly knew an exit through some other side entrance. Maybe even a window or rooftop above. 

Natasha lifted her hands, palms up, in front of her. “I came on my own. To warn you. I’m looking out for you, Barnes. Like you’ve done for me before,” she said quietly but firmly. A smirk quirked her lip to be quickly quenched. “Before Odessa, at least.”

His brow furrowed, but at least he was listening. And not pulling the trigger. “The Iranian scientist…?” Natasha let the wheels turn a bit more. His eyes roved over her face, her hair, her torso. “There wasn’t a clean shot,” Barnes said shortly. 

“Unfortunately.”

Barnes didn’t look convinced, nor was this a memory that Natasha thought would get him to trust her. Appealing to James Barnes had been her intention, not reminding him of the _Soldat’s_ missions between wipes. 

“You don’t remember anything before that?” Natasha asked, feeling crestfallen. His eyes returned to meet hers. They held confusion, fear even. At least they weren’t dull and mechanical. That was enough for Natasha to cling to. 

His head slowly moved side to side. The gun tipped slightly down. “Not clearly,” he amended. 

Natasha nodded. “That’s fine. I didn’t… It’s not important,” she forced herself to keep her voice from betraying her emotions. “What matters right now is that we move out to somewhere else. Preferably somewhere you haven’t been seen before.” 

Barnes was still frozen, his attention locked solely on her. “You think I’m just going to trust you?”

“Hardly,” Natasha barked with a laugh. She could feel the time slipping further from her fingers. “But I think you’re a man with too much to lose to not take the leap.”

“You think you know an awful lot about me.” The gun sank down another inch. Still deadly, but not quick. It wouldn’t hit her heart, just her lungs or her gut. A painful, difficult death. 

Natasha extended one hand out towards the pistol. An open palm, not demanding. He sank back into his stance once more and the muzzle pointed now into her face. Point blank. “Come with me and decide for yourself what I do or don’t know,” she murmured. 

In the distance, she could hear sirens. They cut out quickly, probably once they were a block or two out from their destination. Barnes tensed. He’d heard as well. The seconds ticked along between them. Natasha didn’t move, didn’t let her extended hand drop. She could wait for this. Wait for him to take it. They both knew the stakes if she was telling the truth. Ross’ team wouldn’t ask questions, shoot later. 

Down the hall, the door snapped open. Natasha could hear a familiar voice speaking into a cell phone, low enough that she couldn’t make out the words. Steve, probably notifying Sam of his position. Barnes’ eyes broke contact with hers to cast over his shoulder. 

“We have to go now,” Natasha pushed as much as she dared. There was about ten yards of lobby and hall she estimated before Steve would be in the stairwell and within view. 

They shared another breath. Then Barnes pressed her pistol into her palm and took her by the arm, pulling them both down the back hall and out into the city to disappear.


End file.
